The Dragon Awakes - Part I
by Wardown
Summary: A Dark Daenerys fanfic, set straight after the events of Season 8 Episode 5. Daenerys is a tyrant in this fic, albeit a competent one. She and Jon are lovers, but this is not Jonerys. Part II is here:/s/13319906/1/The-Dragon-Awakes-Part-II
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: The Aftermath **

_What kind of man murders his closest living relative; his Queen; his lover; the woman who has saved his life and loves him unconditionally? No man. No man at all. _

_Or perhaps, a man who has been cursed by the gods. If they exist at all. _

He has his doubts. At any rate, if there are gods, they care nothing for men. He remembers his first death. The pain, the grief, the horror. He remembers nothing on the other side. Not for the first time, he wishes that the Red Priestess had never brought him back into life. That was the cruellest act that anyone could have carried out.

She has to die. Tyrion has convinced him of this. The Imp used every argument. That she would never stop killing. That she was a danger to the world. That Sansa, Bran, and Arya were in danger from her. Arya, no stranger to violence herself, was frankly terrified of the Queen. Arya, who was frightened of no one. She had told him "I know a killer when I see one." And, she should know. But, it is so very hard to kill the one you love. When you are the one person in the world she cares for. If she is a monster, then what does that make him? He hopes, at least, that he will not survive her death. The dragon will take him, or her guards will cut him down. That will be a blessing.

She has to die. In the city, he has seen and heard things, things that he wishes he had never seen or heard. Bodies reduced to charcoal. Men with half their flesh burned off, begging him to kill them. Women, screaming as they are raped. Children, crying out as they are butchered. And he is complicit in all of it. These were his men, who had done these things. Good fathers, good husbands, good sons. Men he had fought with, hunted with, feasted with, but all transformed in a moment into wild beasts by his Queen. The city had surrendered and still she killed it.

He enters the Throne Room. What remains of it anyway. The dragon trusts him, and lets him past. And he sees her. She smiles at him. It strikes her at that moment just how very frail she is. He is so used to seeing her as a force of nature that this has never occurred to him before. He's short (the subject of endless jokes) yet, she is tiny. And so thin. He realises she has lost weight during the war, and she never had much to begin with. Yet, gaunt though she is, she is beautiful. More beautiful than ever, in a way. Like the flame of a candle that has almost exhausted itself

He feels nauseous at this point. " Look at all these swords, melted into a Throne. My brother used to tell me there were thousands, when I just a little girl who could barely count to twenty", she says, wistfully, dreamily." She reaches over to touch the Iron Throne.

He knows what he has to do, but perhaps there is a chance...…"Daenerys, your men were executing prisoners, they say, on your orders"

"I know, it's sad, but necessary", she replies.

"And Tyrion?"

"He is a traitor. He freed his brother. I thought he was the cleverest man I had ever met, in Meereen. I trusted his advice. And, every piece of advice he has given me in Westeros has been bad. I could have finished the war against Cersei in half an hour, had I destroyed the Red Keep at the beginning, as I intended. Thousands of lives would have been saved. He persuaded me not to. I sent my men to attack Casterly Rock, on his advice. It was worthless. I sent you North to capture the wight, on his advice. You were nearly killed, and my dragon was lost. He met with Cersei privately, and assured me that she would join us against the Dead. She betrayed us. Tell me, what conclusion do you think I should draw from all of this? What conclusion would you draw? He is a Lannister. His family will always come first, whatever they have done."

"And so, you cannot forgive him? " She shakes her head sadly, even as, for the first time, he wonders if the Imp was playing them all false. Then he remembers what he has seen, and feels a sudden anger.

"Have you been down in the city? There are children, burned. Little children".

"Do you think that gives me any pleasure?" she responds. "I offered peace to Cersei, and she sought to use my own mercy against me. She destroyed them, not I. When my enemies refuse terms, when they betray me, they have to know that they will lose everything"

"What now?" he asks. "You and I Jon, together, we will build a better world. It's our destiny to rid the world of tyrants."

"So, it never ends?"

"Not until we have won."

She comes close to him, now, speaking softly. "I know what's good, and you know what's good. You've always known what's good, ever since you were just a bastard boy."

"And the rest, what about their idea of "good".

"They don't get to choose", she says, smiling and shaking her head. She fastens her mouth on his, kissing him passionately, hungrily. Gods, this feels good! He knows how wanton and abandoned she can be, in the throes of passion, as he feels his prick stiffen. And then, he remembers she is his aunt, and a murderer, and feels a wave of revulsion. Without hesitation, he drives his dagger into her ribs.

What does Daenerys experience at this point?

Several things. Anger is not one of them, which surprises her. But, this is all depressingly predictable, so perhaps she is not so surprised after all. Sadness, certainly. Her love for Jon is real. Her life has been a hard one, made up of abuse, rape, murder attempts, interspersed with rare moments of happiness. She is 23 now, and it amazes her that she has managed to live that long. To be honest, there are times when she would almost have welcomed death. Jon is one of the very few things that has made her life bearable. Death has few terrors for her. But, she absolutely refuses to lose. So, her chief feeling at this point is satisfaction. She has just proved that she is not stupid. Of course her enemies would make a move against her, and through the man she trusted most. But really, did they think she would leave herself defenceless in a city she had just sacked, Jon or no Jon? Naturally, it hurts like hell, but no dagger will penetrate the lining of thin steel plates within the reinforced fabric of her dress. It's almost an insult, really, that they should think that such an inept attempt could succeed. She can even see the funny side of it.

She steps back and begins giggling, perhaps a little hysterically, as Jon stares at her in horror. He looks so woebegone, with his little dagger in his hand, wondering what has happened. It reminds her of his limp cock, after they have made love, and that makes her giggle again, even as she winces at the pain in her ribs.

"Oh my love, you just tried to kill me. How sweet of you. I think you should put it down, don't you? You might hurt yourself, and Drogon is ….displeased".

Indeed he is. He looms over the pair of them, ready to tear Jon's head from his shoulders, as soon as she gives the order. She won't give the order. At any rate, not yet. "Torgo Nudho" she calls. Her commander enters, flanked by two guards. He sees the knife, still in Jon's hand, and levels his spear to strike, realising at once what was just occurred. .

"Stop, now!", she commands. "Jon, put it down, now, if you want to live! " The knife falls from his grasp. He still seems mesmerised. "Take Lord Snow into custody. Ensure he is made comfortable, and comes to no harm. There is a conspiracy to be unravelled."

"Your Grace, this one would kill him now. You cannot allow him to live."

She freezes the man with a look. "My lord. I respect you greatly but you overstep your rank. That is the last time you will ever tell me what I can or cannot do." Grey Worm bows, turns, and snaps an order to his men. They truss Jon's hands behind his back, and lead him from the room.

Now that the moment is past, she find herself shaking. She sits heavily on the Iron Throne to stop herself from falling to the ground. She flattered herself a few moments ago. She was stupid. Stupid and careless beyond belief. If Jon had been a professional, she would be lying on the ground with her throat cut. Riding a dragon will blind you to the threats that are close to hand. Sensing his mother's dismay, Drogon leans over, nuzzling her neck. She kisses his muzzle, and remains prey to her thoughts.


	2. Dragonflight

Jon Snow is one of the few things that makes Daenerys's life bearable. The other is riding Drogon. She circles ever higher over Blackwater Bay, revelling in the view. At this altitude, there is a keen wind, but her furs prevent her from becoming too cold. On the far horizon, she can still see smoke drifting upwards from the remains of Kings Landing, although the city itself is not visible at this distance. Closer by , she beholds the magnificent volcano peak and fortress of Dragonstone, where she has made her seat for the time being.

Up here, undisturbed, she can think clearly. It does occur to her, as she flies, that she may have been unwise to punish Kings Landing so severely. The cost of rebuilding the capital will be immense, and Westeros has been bled white by warfare. She can command resources from her other Kingdom, in the East, but even so, it is money that could be better spent. On the other hand, it will provide a great deal work for the Smallfolk, so they should be kept happy at least.

She feels no remorse for her actions. Despite her gift for languages, her education has been sadly lacking, for a Prince. She has attempted to remedy this, by studying the books and scrolls in the library at Dragonstone. She is quite satisfied that her behaviour was lawful. She has recently read the Digest of Modestinus, the great Valyrian jurist, whose work formed the basis of her ancestor Jaeherys I's laws. The chapter headed "Murum Aries Attigit" governs the situation at Kings Landing. A city must be offered the chance to surrender, prior to assault, and such surrender must be accepted. The property of the inhabitants is forfeit to the conqueror, but their persons are sacrosanct. She did give the city that chance, and the false queen responded by murdering her best friend, Lady Missandei. No surrender need be accepted after that act of defiance. In any event, Modestinus also rules that "Quod principi placuit, legis habet vigorem." Still, an act may be lawful, yet unwise. There is, however, little point in dwelling on the past.

There are many issues that claim her attention in the present. Dorne, the Vale, the Crownlands and the Stormlands are now governed by loyal lords. she has granted the Iron Islands their independence under Yara Greyjoy, a dependable ally (she is well aware that Yara would like to be much more than an ally to her; the pirate queen must have propositioned her at least a dozen times on the voyage from Meereen). Elsewhere, the situation is less satisfactory. The Reach, and Westerlands are in chaos, following the loss of their lords. She is unsure at this stage whether Lord Tully should be reinstated in the Riverlands. He is no enemy, but he is weak, and he is kin to the Starks. And, they are a problem. Lady Sansa made plain that she hated her, during her stay at Winterfell in the recent war. Lady Arya could barely bring herself to be civil. She does not know what their strange brother thinks, but she assumes she shares their views. The obvious solution would be to eliminate them, and replace them with another House. But, that would cause complications with Jon. And, he is her biggest problem.

She has brought him to Dragonstone with her. He is under constant guard, but otherwise, well-treated. She has interrogated him at length. Torture was not required, although she did show him the Undercroft, where the late Stannis Baratheon kept his instruments of interrogation. She was rather tempted to use them, as she has done in the East, but that is a part of her nature which she is determined to keep under control. She is satisfied that the Imp persuaded him that she was a danger to his family. A vile act, to add to his many vile crimes. Jon's boyish naivety, which she finds so entrancing in a lover, became a weapon to be used against her.

Jon deserves to die for what he did, but that presents problems. For one, he is her legal heir. Unless someone can reverse a witch's curse, she can never bear children. That means that Jon is the future of House Targaryen. That also means she can never marry him, as he will need heirs in turn. That brutish Tarth fighting woman she met in the North is a very distant cousin of hers, it seems, but there is no chance that she could establish a dynasty.

Would mutilation be a fitting punishment? She's seen it done in the East, where traitors are often blinded or have their noses slit, in place of execution. Gods above, what am I thinking of?

When it comes down to it, the politics don't matter. Harming Jon would be like cutting off her right arm. She cannot bear the thought of being alone in the world. She may not be able to marry him, but she fully intends to fuck him every which way, regardless of his silly qualms about incest. No, she really has to forgive him completely, but somehow ensure his loyalty.

She sighs as she flies towards the Narrow Sea.

_Mercy has always been my weakness. it will be the death of me one day _

If the problem with Jon is "What", the problem with the Imp is "How?". Initially, she had intended a swift and painless death for him, with a blow of the headman's axe, or a quick blast of fire from Drogon. That is now out of the question. Betrayal is one thing. Attempting to murder her is an entirely new league of evil. She needs to come up with something …..creative and amusing. Valyrian law establishes a wide variety of precedents which she has turned over in her mind, but really, there is only one punishment that is truly appropriate. And then she has a really brilliant idea! She'll forgive Jon, provided he punishes the Imp exactly as she instructs him to do. And, it will please the Smallfolk of Kings Landing, too; those of them that are still alive, at any rate.

She turns back to Dragonstone, and begins the long descent, circling ever downwards. She admires the Sun glinting on the water of the estuary, as she approaches the island. Drogon lands on the beach with surprising gentleness, in front of the honour guard of Unsullied, which is already waiting for hr. She rubs the back of his head, a gesture of affection which he has long appreciated, and then climbs down. Grey Worm is already there, and clearly has important news for her.

"Your Grace, Lady Arya Stark has been apprehended in Kings Landing, and taken into custody".

"In what circumstances?"

"Suspicious ones, your Grace. She was attempting to enter the cell of Lord Tyrion"

"Bring her to me then."

There have been so few moments of fun in the Queen's life. A most entertaining plan has begun to form in her mind, and Arya Stark has an important part to play in it.

Notes:

1\. Daenerys uses the term "Prince" in its old-fashioned, gender-neutral sense, to mean Head of Government. Macchiavelli's The Prince refers to female as well as male, rulers.

2\. I have used Latin for literary High Valyrian. The quotes mean "The Ram has touched the Walls" and "That which is pleasing to the Prince has the force of law."


	3. Arya's Ordeal

Arya wakes to a world of pain. Gods, she hurts! A young woman is bathing her face, cleaning away the dried blood that cakes it. She can't help it, but she cries out in pain. She is beyond pride, now.

"Quiet, don't struggle." The ministering angel continues her work, soothing Arya a little, even though she can't take away the pain.

"I'm Daena" she says. "Who are you?"

"Arya Stark of Winterfell." The other woman just stares blankly at her. It occurs to her that most of the Smallfolk in Kings Landing have never heard of Winterfell. "It's a castle, hundreds of miles to the North."

"Stark?" says a third woman. "There was a Ned Stark, years ago. I watched, when they cut his head off."

"So did I. He was my father"

"Good Gods!" exclaims the third. "I remember now. The Goldcloaks were sweeping Flea Bottom, looking for you. I remember all the criers offering rewards if you were captured. By the way, I'm Tansel."

She nods to Tansel. She can't shake her hand. Then she says, "I can't remember how I got here. Where am I anyway?"

"It's the holding camp. They brought you in here. You were knocked out for over a day. They must have worked you over, real badly. "

"What holding camp?"

"Outside the city, by the docks. They've made the warehouses into a prison. But, people don't stay here long. They hang them quickly enough. The lucky ones, at any rate."

" Why are you here?" Arya asks.

"Same reason as Daena. We were caught stealing food. There isn't much left in the city. And you? No offence, but I don't think you've ever had to steal food. So, what's a highborn doing here anyway?".

"You'd be surprised what I've had to do. My memory's a bit hazy, but I'm an enemy of the Queen. I tried to free one of her prisoners. It wasn't from here. It was in the city." Memories start to return, of her killing two Unsullied, before they brought her down. They'd beaten her , with their spear butts. That hurt, but her interrogation had been much worse. Slow methodical beatings, whippings, fingernails being torn out. She guesses that's when she passed out. She glances at her hands, and sees the ends of her fingers, a bloodied mess.

"Figures. The guards said you were a subversive."

"Gods, Arya, you really are in the shit!" exclaims Daena.

"Don't I know it? But, thank you for cleaning my face. That was very kind"

"I'd do the same for any cellmate"

She spends another couple of days in the holding cell. The pain lessens a little over that time. The guards bring food and water twice a day, and change their night soil bucket at the end of the day. The other women remain friendly, feeding her food and water, as she can't use her hands. She hopes they'll survive, even though she knows that she will not. She doesn't fear her coming death. But, she is sad. Sad about the things she'll never do, the countries she'll never visit, the children she'll never have. Still, she's packed more than a lifetime of experience into her eighteen years. It's just that they're the sort of experiences no one would want. She'll try claiming rank when they kill her. Beheading is no joke, she's seen it done badly. But, she'd prefer it to choking on a rope's end, with her piss running down her legs.

Most strange of all is that her cellmates harbour very little anger towards the Queen. They blame Cersei for what went down. "It was all round the city in hours" explained Daena. "She called on Cersei to surrender, and she killed her best friend in front of her. We all knew we were fucked, then. It was Cersei who killed us. " She wonders if this attitude is typical.

The guards come for her that night, four of them. She rises wearily to her feet. "I'm going to die now" she tells her cellmates. "Can you say a prayer for me?"

Of course. Goodbye Arya" says Daena.

"Goodbye, and good luck. Both of you"

The night will prove to be full of surprises.

The first comes almost immediately. Her guards lead her out of the building, but not to a gibbet, as she expects. There is a closed carriage waiting, with the door open. She is instructed to enter it. Manacles are snapped around her right wrist and one ankle, and fastened to floor of the carriage, by lengths of chain. It makes very little difference. Without the use of her hands, not even the skills she learned in Braavos could help her escape. It occurs to her at this point, that she is perhaps being reserved for an even worse fate than hanging. She wonders if there's a way she can kill herself before that happens. Unlikely.

The coach travels for a couple of hours. She even manages to drift off to sleep. When she wakes, it has halted. The door opens, and a Dothraki woman enters, unlocking the manacles. "My Lady, come." My Lady? Not at all what she is expecting. Her interrogators preferred terms such as "bitch", "cunt" and "whore". The Dothraki gently helps her down. Still surrounded by guards, the woman leads them up a gravel path, towards a large low-built house. Arya notes that the gardens are magnificent. She can smell lavender and pine in the night air. She can smell the sea, too. The coastal villa of some merchant prince, she supposes. She is led into the hallway, and down a corridor, carpeted with wool from Myr, and lined with rich tapestries. The Dothraki knocks on a mahogany door, and then opens it. She bows to Arya, gesturing for her to enter. She does so, realising that it is the villa's principal dining room. Waiting for her, at the other end of the table, having just finished her meal, is the worst person in the world.

"Sit. Eat and drink, if you're hungry" says Daenerys. The Queen is wearing a brigandine, and dark wool trousers. She notices a steel collar round the Queen's neck. Even surrounded by loyal guards, she is taking no chances. And that means, either Jon backed out of killing her, or the attempt failed. She fears Jon may be dead

"I'd love to take up your offer, your Grace, but as you can see, I can't feed myself." She holds up her mutilated fingers. She notices a flash of anger across the Queen's face.

"Who did that?"

"Your men, your Grace. They beat me and whipped me as well. "

"Anything else?" She guesses what the Queen is implying.

"No. Not that."

" Do you want them dead?"

"No. They were only obeying orders. I'd rather the person giving the orders was dead." _That was a very stupid thing to say _

"Meaning me, I suppose. I understand. I did not order my men to treat you in that manner. But, nor did I instruct them not to. That was an oversight on my part."

Arya is then surprised for the second time that night. The Queen rises and says "On behalf of House Targaryen, I wish to apologise for the way you were treated. It was inexcusable."

_Does she mean it? No, she's a cat toying with her prey. Still, no harm in being polite _

"I accept your apology, your Grace" rising to give a clumsy curtsey. "I could do with some wine. if your handmaid could assist me."

"Of course. " The Queen nods to the Dothraki, who fills a goblet of wine, and holds it Arya's lips. She drinks greedily. It is perhaps, the most delicious drink she has ever tasted.

"Take care, it is strangely potent" says the Queen smiling with amusement. "Do you love Jon?"

_Ah, this is the real business of the evening. But, she's just revealed that he's still alive. Careful, careful _

" I do, your Grace. More than anyone in the world, I think."

"We have that in common. Some days ago, he tried to murder me. I take it, you were aware of this, at the time?"

_Best to be honest. Lying will only infuriate her. _

"Yes, your Grace."

"Why did he do it?"

"He was appalled by the slaughter at Kings Landing and your plans for the future. But, even so he remained loyal. But then he went to visit Lord Tyrion in prison. Lord Tyrion persuaded him that you planned to murder our entire family." It occurs to her at the point, that she has just condemned Tyrion to a dreadful death, but what choice did she have? Saving Jon's life comes first.

The Queen nods, and then asks as if at a tangent "You were a mummer in Braavos. Would you say you were a good one?"

"Passable your Grace. But, the audience appreciated my performance."

"Good". The Queen then surprises her for the third time, by telling her exactly what she plans for her and Jon, and what she wants her to do at Dragonstone.

_Mad as a march hare _

Not that Arya has any intention of uttering that thought. But, she'll put her heart and soul into what the Queen wants from her. Then an idea occurs to her.

"Your Grace. There were two young women in my cell. They were kind to me. Would you allow them to go free?"

"What was their offence?"

"They stole food to survive". There is a pregnant silence, as their fate hangs in the balance.

"Of course. No one should die for such a reason. Go now. My servants will assign you quarters, and prepare a bath for you. I shall send you a healer in the morning."

The guards lead her out of the room. It is all she can do not to collapse with nervous exhaustion. She is led to a chamber which she supposes was used by the Steward of the house. Compared to her cell, it is palatial. Her bath can wait till the morning. For the first time in weeks, she enjoys a deep and dreamless sleep.


	4. The Ear of a Tyrant

It is unclear to Jon what his aunt intends to do with him. They have had several meetings since she placed him under arrest. He has not been ill-treated, simply confined to his chambers at Dragonstone, under guard. Does she intend to execute him? Forgive him? Imprison him? It is very hard to tell. There is one thing, though. He suspects that she enjoys keeping him in suspense. She has revealed a side to her character that was not entirely clear to him previously.

Prior to their first interview, she had led him, under guard, into the Undercroft beneath the fortress. She had pointed out the various instruments that were used for interrogation. She had explained in some detail, their individual uses, and the effects they had upon those who were unfortunate enough to be subject to them. She had made it clear that she had both witnessed and participated in their use. She had in fact, been quite explicit.

" In the East, I discovered my true nature. I know what people call me; my admirers call me the Breaker of Chains, the Rescuer. My enemies call me the Queen of Ashes. Admirers or enemies, both groups misunderstand me fundamentally. People will argue until the cows come home whether I was justified in locking Doreah in a vault to starve, or crucifying Meereenese noblemen, or feeding one of them to Drogon, or burning the Tarlys. They will debate whether these acts were morally right, or cruel, or politic. But, it will never occur to them that I did these things, in large part, because they gave me pleasure. Yes, I think they were all necessary, too, but the pleasure was a big part of this. That is what it means to be a Targaryen, Jon. That is the shame, and the glory of our House, of being the blood of the dragon. A dragon is cruel, and enjoys cruelty. That is my nature.

"In parts of the East, they have made the infliction of pain almost a work of art. I am at best, a moderately gifted amateur, by comparison. I do try to restrain myself. I do impose limits. Usually. But, sometimes, the urge to go just that bit farther becomes irresistible. To draw the life of a man who has wronged you from him step, by careful step, to raise his hopes and then dash them, to let one's imagination run free. That is what it means to be a Queen, a Khaleesi. But, it can be impolitic. So, I hold my inclinations in check. Mostly."

"You told me you took no pleasure from the deaths at Kings Landing?" he'd dared to say.

"Nor do I. That was an act of war."

It is hard to fathom his aunt's state of mind.

Had she just been trying to frighten him? If so, she had succeeded. He was shit-scared of her, now. Or was she in fact, being entirely honest?

And yet, she had not laid a finger on him. Her interrogation of him had been quite civilised, far more civilised in fact, than the questioning of wildlings who had been captured by the Nights Watch. She had asked him searching, intelligent, questions, in detail. About his motivations for wishing to take her life; the events that had led up to it; whether Lady Sansa had been a part of it; whether he still wished her dead; his plans for the future; and then finally "What would you do in my position? Would you execute an heir who tried to kill you?" . He had not begged for a second chance, simply pointed out that the future of House Targaryen would be extinguished with his death. He hoped the answer would satisfy her.

And now, Ser Davos Seaworth is in his chambers, very agitated. "The Queen wants to see you, now. She's going to decide your fate. For the Gods' sake Jon, show some fucking sense for once in your life. Whatever she demands, you tell her "Yes ma'am, no ma'am, three bags full ma'am. If she tells you to tongue her arse in public, you do it right away, and you thank her for the privilege. Is that clear, Jon? It's not just your life on the line, it's your sister's too. Yes Jon, she's got Arya. " Jon's mind reels in horror. He nods to Davos. "Good. Now get ready."

Grey Worm comes for him, a short while later. He knows that the Master of War hates him, would cut him down in a moment if given the order. Grey Worm and his guards lead him through the living rock of Dragonstone, into the throne room. It is quite the spectacle.

His aunt is seated on the throne, motionless. She wears a robe of porphyry silk, a pearl headdress, and purple boots, her upper works ablaze with jewels. A shaft of sunlight falls on her through a skylight, giving the appearance of a halo. Her hair sparkles with gold dust, artfully sprinkled. The effect is most striking. He remembers a similar picture in a book he once read, about a ruler of Old Valyria; Irene, that was her name. There was picture of her, looking as the Queen does now. He remembers also that she blinded her own son, when he displeased her. So brutally in fact, that the young man died of his injuries. That is not a happy thought.

Standing before the throne is his sister, Arya. She wears a simple white robe, her hair dishevelled, and covered with ashes. She is flanked by two young women, also dressed in white. On either side of the throne are ranks of guards, and a number of courtiers, in dress robes. He spots a handsome man in a striking gold robe, whom he does not recognise, standing next to Yara Greyjoy, in scarlet doublet and hose, in place of her usual black leathers. Yara gives him a quick grin and a wink. Grey Worm prods him forward.

A steward emerges from the crowd, and addresses Arya "Speak before the Queen."

Arya steps forward and begins. "Great Queen, the Mother of Us All, God Made Manifest to Mankind, I crave your Divine clemency for my brother, Jon. He is a hero, honourable and well-intentioned to a fault, but ignorant of man's depravity. He was led astray by an evil man, a man whose sins and crimes are beyond counting. A twisted monkey demon, so abandoned to decency that he slew his own father. A man who betrayed your Grace at every turn and sought to slay you . I beg your Grace, turn your merited wrath upon this man, and not upon my brother. My family has suffered, as yours has, at the hands of that man's family. I beseech your Grace, do not let that man strike us down from the grave."

There is a catch in Arya's voice, and then she pauses to weep. The young women beside her weep as well.

She continues. "My brother loves your Grace with all his heart. Grant him his life and you shall have no more devoted servant. Your Grace is famed for mercy and clemency. We mortals can claim no right to clemency from such as you, yet you dispense it as an act of grace. Will you not spare his life."

She kneels before the throne, bowing her head to the ground.

"Your Grace, will you not spare him" the two young women echo, falling to the ground in turn. "Your Grace, will you not spare him" Ser Davos says gruffly.

"Your Grace, will you not spare him for Westeros" cry out the crowd in unison, also falling to their knees. Jon catches Yara's eye, and realises that she is struggling not to laugh at the spectacle.

There is a long pause, before the Queen replies "Alas, we cannot."

The courtiers cry out in despair. Arya rises to her feet and pleads anew. Again, the Queen refuses. For the third time, Arya pleads her brother's case.

The Queen gives an exaggerated sigh. And then she says "Oh very well. Clemency becomes us well. Your brother's life is not forfeit." A round of applause follows from the courtiers. Arya weeps again, this time, tears of gratitude.

"Come hither, errant nephew" she commands. She then steps down from the Throne to embrace him, as the crowd applauds again. But, she still whispers to him "I've given you a second chance. There won't be a third."

"And now dear friends" commands the Queen "let us retire to the Great Hall to feast and rejoice. A family quarrel has been ended. And I for one, am planning to get extremely drunk."

It is indeed, a wild party . The Queen is as good as her word. The food and drink are excellent, and abundant, and everyone apart from the guards drinks deep. She thanks Arya for her performance, presenting her with one of her own diamond rings, probably worth a fair-sized village on its own. "What an actor you are. Our gain is Braavos' loss". "You, on the other hand" she says to Ser Davos "need to practice harder. There was no pathos in your performance."

The banquet is in fact, only marred by two things. The first is that the Queen has told him exactly what she wants him to do to Tyrion Lannister. The thought of it makes his blood run cold. The second is the obvious affection that the Queen displays towards Yara Greyjoy and the man in the gold robe, who it turns out is the Dornish envoy. Towards the end the three of them retire to the Queen's solar together, and Jon feels an irrational stab of jealousy. He's alive, the Queen's heir, and his sister is safe. What does he have to complain of?

**Notes:**

1\. Irene of Athens was ruler of the Eastern Empire, towards the end of the Eighth Century, either as Empress Regent or Empress Regnant. She was troubled by the behaviour of her son, who was seeking to remove her from power, and had him blinded so brutally that he died shortly afterwards. She could be said to be lacking in maternal sentiment.

2\. Daenerys' nasty sense of humour resembles that of Peter the Great and the early Romanovs. If anything, she is restrained by comparison.


	5. Judgement Day

Tyrion's days drag out in his prison cell. Initially, he was full of hope, convinced that he had persuaded Jon to murder his aunt. He had always thought of Jon as naive to the point of simplicity. A hero, certainly, but easy to manipulate. And, yet he had been unable to persuade him to break his oath of loyalty to his Queen. And, then, at the last moment, he had found the clinching argument. That, Daenerys planned to murder his sisters, and brother. In truth, Daenerys had never said that, at least not in so many words. Granted, she and Sansa had loathed each other on sight, when she came to Winterfell. The Northerners had resented this "foreign whore" who had made their King bend the knee, and were determined to retain their precarious independence. Sansa had been their chief spokesman. At the time, he had even felt sorry for Daenerys. Despite saving them from the Army of the Dead, few of them had a good word to say about her. In truth, he was certain that Sansa wanted the Queen dead. What else could have possessed her to reveal the truth of Jon's parentage to him, unless she was seeking to stir the pot?

Things got much worse after they returned South. The Queen had suffered one setback after another, culminating in the murder of Lady Missandei, at the city gates. He had negotiated in good faith with Cersei, convinced to the very end that she could see reason. He now realises how stupid that belief was. His sister was beyond reason. The Queen was convinced that he had turned traitor, and he can see now why she would think that. The advice he had given, intended honestly, had turned out to be disastrous. The Queen had been right; if she had flown with her three dragons to the Red Keep, as soon as she had landed in Westeros, she could have ended the war in an afternoon. And thousands of lives would have been saved. Be that as it may, he needed to stay on her right side. Fortunately, Varys had been talking treason. He was able to reveal to the Queen the traitor in her ranks, and she had been duly grateful. Until his fool of a brother got himself caught, slipping through her lines. And he, even more of a fool, had helped Jaime to escape.

So, there he was, trapped in prison. It was the Queen's life or his own, and that was a choice that made itself. She *had* expressed enmity towards the Starks. He was almost certain that she would try to eliminate Sansa, at the very least. But, there is a big gap, still, between almost certain, and certain. Still, he wanted to escape (and hopefully inherit Casterly Rock) and if the Queen (or Jon) had to die to enable this, that was something he could live with. So, he told Jon that the Queen had threatened the lives of his family. And, that had clinched it, or so he thought at the time.

The problem is, that he is still in prison. So, either he failed to persuade Jon, or Jon failed. He cannot say that he has been positively ill-treated by his captors. His guards provide him with plenty of food and water. Occasionally, they even give him wine. But, it is so very boring. The days drag on, and he has nothing to do except to invent erotic fantasies in his own mind, usually involving Lady Sansa, the Queen, sweet-smelling oils, and items that are usually only found in the better class of brothel. At least, he still has the use of his right hand. Fool of a Lannister_. Your sister gave you Sansa, a piece of cake just waiting to be eaten. She was lying on your bed, naked, and you did nothing. You ought to be executed for that alone. _

But, he does not want to die. Death is so very final, whereas life is full of possibilities. He realises that when they come for him. They snap manacles on his wrists, and bind him with chains. A hood is then placed over his head, and he is marched out of his cell. He can tell that they have led him into the open air, before throwing him down into the back of a cart. After an hour or so, he guesses from the smell that he has reached the docks. He hears a man jump into the cart, who hauls him to his feet, snarling "Get out shitface!" Shitface. Not a good sign. The man pushes him out of the back of the cart, but someone catches him before he hits the ground. "Move". He walks a short distance, before then being led on to a platform that sways with the motion of the Sea. He guesses that it is a ship's gangplank, as he is half-pushed, half-dragged upwards. His hood is removed. He has guessed correctly. He is on the deck of a small ship, surrounded by grim-faced men in rough woollen clothes. He wonders if they are about to kill him on the spot. Later, he will wish that they had done.

He recognises his gaoler on board the deck. The man is speaking to the ship's captain. "This man is a dangerous and desperate criminal. You are to take him to Dragonstone. If he escapes, you and every man on board will be put to death. Your families, also." " I hear and obey" replies the captain. The gaoler turns to leave the ship, as sailors march Tyrion below decks. He is confined to the ship's hold. The hold is pitch-black and stinks, of fish, stagnant water, and night soil. He can hear rats, scurrying around in the darkness. The only thing which is worse than being chained in the ship's hold is what he suspects awaits him at the journeys end.

The voyage is a short one, no more than twenty four hours. They do not bother to give him food or water, so that he has a raging thirst by the end. But, that is likely to be irrelevant to his future. He has always been cursed with a vivid imagination. He speculates on the end that the Queen has in mind for him. Quartering, burning, flaying, maybe something worse. Is there anything worse? It turns out that there is.

He wakes to the sound of footsteps descending into the hold. A lamp suddenly flares, revealing an officer of the Unsullied, surrounded by the sailors. "Welcome, traitor" says the officer. He nods to the sailors, who drag him to his feet, and take him on deck. Above him, looms the fortress of Dragonstone. On the shore, there is a welcoming party, if that is the correct term. As he is led off the ship, he sees the Queen, Jon, Arya, Ser Davos Seaworth, Yara Greyjoy, and a number of courtiers and officers. None of them looks happy. And then his blood runs chill. One of the Unsullied holds a dog on a leash, a second has a cockerel in his arms. Two others are holding a large, leather sack, of the type that is used to carry corn or other perishable goods. And, now he knows how he will die. The Parricide Sack! Like all teenage boys, he had a gruesome sense of humour, and used to gloat over stories of men who were cast into the sea to drown, in a sack with only two maddened animals for company. He imagined the panic, the horror, as the animals clawed, and bit, and fouled the man who was trapped inside with them, and he used to laugh at their fate. He laughs no longer. He can't help it, but he fouls his breeches, and falls to the ground, gibbering with fright, and babbling for mercy.


	6. Reconciliation

Jon steps forward, as Tyrion collapses in a heap, moaning, begging for mercy, and judging by the stench, having just shat himself. "Tyrion of House Lannister, the Queen is the mother of us all. A man who conspires to murder her Grace , who incites others to murder her, is a parricide. And, you have already murdered your own natural father. The ancients, in their wisdom, decreed that there was only one punishment suitable for such a wretch; that he be denied light, and air, and burial on land and at sea. That his companions in death, should be a cockerel, implying ingratitude, and a dog, implying shamelessness. The Queen has decreed that you suffer such a fate. If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them." A loud, moaning, wail is all the response that Tyrion can give him. "Very well". Jon nods to the Unsullied, bearing the sack, who approach. Two more Unsullied pick Tyrion up by his arms, and deposit him in it.

"Halt" calls Daenerys. She walks over, staring down impassively at Tyrion. "Thank the gods, in whom you do not believe, that you have friends at Court. I would have gone through with this. Your friends have persuaded me that you should be sent into exile. Ser Davos Seaworth will transport you to Braavos. You will be left with the clothes on your back, but no more than that. How you support yourself in exile is a matter of indifference to me; if you pleasure men with your mouth for your food and lodging, it will be more than you deserve. But, know this, if ever you return to Westeros, or set foot in Meereen, I will carry out this sentence. I demand one thing of you. The truth. Tell the truth to Prince Jon, and Lady Arya."

Tyrion stares up at them all, still weeping with fright. "Your highness, my lady, it is true, that I hated what took place in the city. The dead children, the promises of further war. But I lied also, to Prince Jon. I am a vile little man. I lied when I told him that her Grace planned to murder your family. Her Grace has never made such a threat. Forgive me, but I did not want to die. I wanted Jon to kill the Queen". He wrings his hands compulsively.

"Very well" replies the Queen. "Ser Davos, take this creature out of my sight, now."

And then, Arya surprises him. She rushes forward, and kicks Tyrion hard in the face, breaking his nose. "You filthy, lying, fucking, bastard," she screams. "I risked my life to save you, I killed two men, I was fucking tortured, all for a lying cunt!" Jon shares her sentiments, but still darts forward to restrain her. This is not what he agreed with Daenerys. Yara Greyjoy steps forward and give her views:

"Daenerys" (such familiarity in public is allowed in a sister monarch) "This creature is evil. You cannot let it live. Rid the world of it, for good."

"It did me good service in the past". "I would prefer to let it live in shame, in its own shit. Ser Davos, take it away." Ser Davos steps forward, and drags Tyrion away.

The Queen is not noted for the quality of mercy. Old-fashioned severity is more her style. So, why did she spare Tyrion? To know the answer to that question, one must return to the morning after the banquet that celebrated her reconciliation with Jon Snow.

The Queen awakens to a splitting headache. She feels as if an orchestra is performing inside her skull. Worse, she has a crick in her neck, caused by the fact that she fell asleep with Yara Greyjoy's legs wrapped around her head. Her own legs are wrapped around the head of the Dornish envoy (a Dayne, she thinks, although she can't even remember his name right now). It is difficult to remember precisely what took place between them, although it is easy enough to guess. She does recall at one point, the Dornishman suggested that one of her Dothraki guards should join them, and they introduced the man to the kind of high jinks that would get you burned at the stake in a Khalasar. The guard, however, has departed. She gently disengages herself from her companions. She throws on a linen shift and makes for the privy, where she is promptly and violently sick. She feels a good deal better for it. _So this is an orgy? Well, it has its points, but only a cad would make a habit of it._

She summons her Dothraki handmaiden, and instructs her to prepare her bath, and a pot of black coffee. After bathing, she feels much happier, if still a little fragile. As usual, she prefers to dress herself, selecting the trim black and silver undress uniform of an Unsullied Officer. As she emerges from her dressing room, she sees Yara still lying in her bed, although the Dornishman has left. Yara whistles appreciatively.

"Do I pass muster?" asks Daenerys.

"You are without a doubt, the best turned-out officer in all the guard. Now, I've got a proposal for you. Come to Pyke, and be my salt-wife."

"Can I bring Jon Snow?" Yara pouts with disapproval. "I'd love to say yes, but I'm afraid I've got eight kingdoms to manage just now."

Jon Snow! She feels a sudden stab of guilt. Cheating on him in public, when she'd just forgiven him! She needs to apologise to him, immediately.

So, a couple of hours later, she is walking with him, arm in arm, along the terrace that is lined with gargoyles. The ones she has been told that looked like Stannis Baratheon's daughter. "My behaviour was monstrous, Jon. I am very, very, sorry. I promise you, it will never happen again."

"Your bed, your business" is his only reply.

"Don't be like that. You know that you're the only one that matters to me." She giggles like a child, and then whispers to him "I've a mind to kneel before the Prince of Dragonstone tonight, and to beg his forgiveness. He can punish me for my wanton behaviour as he sees fit." She fastens her mouth on his, and they share a passionate kiss, before he disengages. She feels a sudden stab of anger.

"What is the matter? You're my heir? You and your children will rule the world. Is fucking me such a hardship for you? "

"My sister. How could you do that to her? She killed the Night's King. She saved the world. She's suffered things that no girl should ever have to suffer. And, YOU TORTURED HER!. Have you seen the state of her fucking fingers?"

She is taken aback, and faces him. "I never ordered it. Yes, I heard she'd been arrested, when she tried to rescue the Imp. I gave orders that she be brought to me. My agents exceeded my instructions. Dreadfully. I apologised to your sister. I even asked her if she wanted me to put them to death. What more can I do?"

"Do you expect her to believe you, Dany"?

She ponders for a while. "I suppose she would not. " They resume walking along the terrace. "By the old gods and the new, Jon, I would never hurt Arya. What do you want me to do? I can give her lands, titles, a castle, if that's what she wants?"

"Dany, that's not her. She's never been interested in possessions. She wants to ride, and sail, and keep dogs, and practice archery. Give her the rent from an estate if you like, but she just wants to live as she chooses. And one other thing. If you want to show her that you're sincere, spare the Imp"

"Never" she snaps. "He's a traitor. He betrayed the pair of us."

"He's not completely evil. Send him into exile in poverty; frighten the life out of him. But, grant him his life. Showing mercy is a sign of greatness, not a sign of weakness."

She considers this. "Isn't it just? Alright, I'll do as you suggest. Upon one condition. We get to fuck, afterwards."

"Agreed."

She comes to his chambers, the night that Tyrion Lannister has been sent into exile. Each rides the other hard, through to daybreak, making up for weeks of abstinence. _If incest with a tyrant is such a sin, why do the gods make it feel so good. _

As they drank, and talked, between bouts of lovemaking, she went over the day's events again and again. The look on Tyrion's face when he saw the sack; the fact that he shat himself; watching him grovel for mercy and confess his treason. And funniest of all, Arya's reaction when she realised that the Imp had played her for a fool. She couldn't stop giggling about it.

And now that she has left, he knows exactly why she spared Tyrion. He didn't matter to her. Arya on the other hand, matters very much to her. She wants to destroy Arya's faith in human nature, to make her as cynical and twisted as she is. The Queen will never harm Arya physically, now. But, she will destroy her soul.

**Notes:**

Poena Cullei, the Punishment of the Sack, was the punishment prescribed by Roman law, for parricides. It was in use in parts of Europe until well into the eighteenth century. It was actually more brutal than depicted here. The victim would be savagely scourged and forced to crawl into the sack, which would subsequently be sewn shut.


	7. A Harsh Lesson in Ruling

Arya is growing quite close to the Queen. She knows she shouldn't. She will never forget that afternoon at Kings Landing, as fire rained down from the sky and swept through the city. She had seen people, literally, melt into the ground, as cobbled streets were transformed into lava. But, in fairness, she has also judged her wrongly. Tyrion had lied to Jon, in order to save his own wretched skin, and the result was that both she and Jon had been placed in deadly danger. And, the Queen has restored Jon to favour, and likes her as well. Jon has suggested several times that she return to Winterfell, but she sees no reason to. The Queen has granted her the income from the Rosby wardship, so that she can live the life she wants. She enjoys riding, and sailing the Blackwater, and plans to travel further afield before long. Her hands are now largely healed. The Queen frequently takes tea with her, and she realises, that for all her faults, she is a shrewd leader. All her life, she has divided people into the good, such as her parents, Jon, Syrio Forel, and the bad, such as Cersei, Joffrey, Walder Frey and his sons, Meryn Trant. It occurs to her that there may be people who are neither wholly good, nor wholly bad, and the Queen may be one of them. She will never forget Kings Landing; no one will ever know how many died that day, but the number cannot be fewer than fifty thousand. Tens of thousands more lived on, hideously burned. Nor is she ignorant that the Queen rules harshly. Even now, after six months, thousands of people languish in her camps and prisons, and hangings are daily occurrences. But, the Queen spared her cellmates, and took them into service on her advice. Every day also, she sees barges, hugging the coast, transporting food and building materials to Kings Landing. The ruins have now been cleared, the Smallfolk are fed and housed, and the city is being rebuilt on a far grander scale than before. And the attitude of her cellmates, which she had found so strange, proved to be widespread. The Smallfolk do mostly blame Cersei for what happened, rather than the Queen. Some of them even bless her name, as there is no shortage now of well-paid work in the capital "At least, we're no longer free to starve under Cersei" is a common remark in the city.

So, this Summer afternoon finds her walking arm in arm with Daenerys, across a stretch of parkland outside the fortress. Guards surround them but maintain a discreet distance.

"I like you Arya", she says. "There is no lying about you. I am surrounded by liars. I lie at times. I have to. But, you, you always let people know where they stand with you. Even if you hated me, you would tell me that, and I'd respect you for it. Do you hate me? You have reason to."

Arya considers her reply, carefully. "I don't hate you. I'm not sure if I like you, but I respect you. I can't forgive what you did to the city. I have nightmares about it. I have nightmares about what your men did to me, as well, but I accept, my brother and I were both tricked by the Imp. So were you. I certainly don't like your sense of humour. But, I also see that you have done good things as well, both here and in the East. Has my brother ever told you about a man at the Wall, Maester Aemon...?"

"He was my great great uncle. He ought to have been King. It's funny, if he had been, his descendants would rule, and I'd just be their poor cousin."

"He once told my brother that there were many good men who had made bad kings; but, there were some bad men who had made good kings. I think that applies to Queens, as well."

"And, you think I'm the latter? That's fair. If that's how history judges me, I'll be content." Dany releases her arm, and stoops to pick up a stick as they approach a wilderness, filled with wild flowers.

"I'm sure you must have heard the story of the two rulers in ancient times. One of them went to visit the other, and asked him, what he had to do to maintain power. The other ruler did not speak to him, but led him out into a field of poppies. Every time he came across a poppy which was taller than the rest, he would lop its head off, like this". Daenerys strikes the head off a tall poppy. "I think the message is obvious, wouldn't you say."

"Of course, don't let overmighty subjects remain alive. It's not a decision that women usually have to make."

"No, it isn't, but we live in unusual times. I am not a poor cousin, but Queen of Westeros and Meereen. Yara Greyjoy is Queen of the Iron Islands. So many lords have died and left infant children, that women rule up and down the land. Your sister rules the North." Arya holds her breath.

"So tell me, Arya,", the Queen now staring into her face intently "Is Sansa one of the tall poppies that I have to lop?"

_Careful, careful. I can't lie, but I can't tell the whole truth_

"My sister has endured hell. So have you, so have I. When she was a girl, she dreamed of marrying a shining knight and having his children. I used to laugh at her for it. She thought that Joffrey was that shining knight. He turned out to be a monster, who murdered my father, and made Sansa thank him for it. He beat and tortured her. He would have raped her, I think, but Lady Tyrell poisoned him. And, Lady Tyrell and Queen Margaery framed my sister for it. If she had been caught, she would have been burned for treason, and the Tyrells would have stood by and watched. Instead, she was spirited away by Lord Baelish for his own purposes. He sold her to the only man in Westeros who was worse than Joffrey, Lord Bolton. He did rape her repeatedly; he did things to my sister that left her unable to walk, except in very great pain. Once she had borne him a living child, I think his intention was to torture her to death, for his own amusement. I don't know how my sister retained her sanity.

Everything my sister believed in was destroyed. Do you know, she ended up feeding Lord Bolton to his own dogs? I would have cut his throat, without a moment's hesitation. But, when I found out what Sansa had done, I was appalled. The big sister who used to call me "horseface" and sing to the Seven, and loved needlework, died, somewhere along the way. In her place was a hard, cold, bitter woman, who had been betrayed and tormented by everyone she put her trust in.

I am sorry that she was so rude and unpleasant to you. I am sorry that she sought to stir up trouble between you and Jon. But, I do not think she will rebel against you.. She's not stupid. She knows you'd raze Winterfell to the ground"

"I wish I could be that confident. This is not a contest, you understand, but my own life has been somewhat similar. From, I think, my eleventh year, I was assaulted by my brother. He would disrobe me, paw me, beat me. At first I thought it was because of things I had done wrong, but over time, I came to realise it excited him. He never took my maidenhead, that was far too valuable. But, he enjoyed himself in other ways. At the age of 13, he sold me to a warlord. Khal Drogo proceeded to rape me, on my wedding night, and for several weeks thereafter. There were times that I resolved to take my own life, but I lacked the courage to do so. Bizarrely, Drogo and I did fall in love, and for a time, we were happy . But, a witch cursed the pair of us. She destroyed Drogo's mind, and killed my child. She left me barren for the rest of my life. I burned her, and hatched my dragons. Step by painful step, one vile task after another, I clawed my way to the top. At Astapor, I burned a city, and won an army. My bards say that I did it to free slaves. Rubbish. I did it because I needed an army, and couldn't afford to pay for it. I took Meereen, because I needed a wealthy kingdom of my own, before I could even consider invading Westeros - a kingdom, incidentally, which is paying for the rebuilding of Kings Landing. I bled the East white to finance the invasion. You may think your sister is a hard, cold, bitter woman. Maybe she is, but I am what a truly terrible woman looks like!"

"I know that you and your sister correspond regularly. Tell her to abandon her absurd notions of independence. I shall summon her here. I shall give her a safe conduct if she requires one. But, she will bend the knee, and perform liege homage to me for the North. Or else, the North will have another ruler.

"And now, there is something you should see. " She takes Arya's arm with an iron grip, and leads here into a small wood. In the wood, there is a clearing, with more guards, surrounding a couple of dozen prisoners in chains.

"These men served Cersei. They tortured, they raped. I plan to make them suffer exactly as they made their victims suffer. Unless, perhaps, you can think of an alternative. Can you?

Arya thinks for a moment. "I would spare their lives, but render them harmless. I would suggest that their hands and tongues be removed."

The Queen nods. "I understand that your family has a saying that "He who passes sentence must swing the sword." See to it then, my guards will assist you. You may still refuse, but then, these men will die with every refinement of cruelty. I taught you a lesson that day with Tyrion; now, I'm teaching you another. Rulers do not choose between good and bad; only between bad and worse."

The Queen turns and walks away, as Arya's mouth fills with bile.

Notes: The reference to people melting into streets is taken from Kurt Vonnegut's description of the firebombing of HamburgA


	8. The Past Catches UP

Later that evening, Jon returns to Dragonstone. It has been a wearying day's work, trying disputes between local landowners and their tenants. As far as he can tell, the local gentry spend most of their lives stealing from the poor and each other, seducing each others' wives, and borrowing money they have no intention of repaying. For once, he sympathises with his aunt's desire to "break the wheel". There are times when the behaviour of his own class disgusts him. Rule by an autocrat might even be preferable. There had been one entertaining moment, however. He had ruled against one oaf, who had insisted on demanding fees from his tenants which were not included in their leases. The idiot had actually answered him back, claiming he was a friend of the Master of Ships, Lord Velaryon. In response, he had simply asked one question. "Are you suggesting her Grace the Queen will prefer your judgement to my own?" The man had gone white with fright at that point, fallen to his knees and begged forgiveness, saying that it was all a misunderstanding, and of course the money would be repaid. Jon had given him a week to do so, and promised him that he would check to see that it had been down. In general, the last few months have been good . Daenerys has been almost reasonable, their love life is back to what it was, and he has thrown himself into the work of rebuilding the city. He can't complain about lack of resources from his aunt either, even if she had suggested renaming the city Daeneropolis. He managed to persuade her that it would be tactless.

As he walks to his chambers, he remembers he has left a scroll which he is reading, in the Chamber of the Painted Table. He retraces his steps, and enters the room. And sees his sister. She is standing at the window, staring into the sunset as it falls across the horizon. She seems troubled. "Arya". She turns to him, staring vacantly. To his dismay, he sees blood spattered down her tunic. "What's this?"

She remains silent for a while, before replying, in a monotone, "I tortured prisoners. It was necessary, you see, the Queen told me that they would all die if I didn't do it. I had to remove their hands and tongues, or else she'd kill them."

_Fuck me! Fuck her!_

"Let me get this clear. She made you torture people for her?" Even for his aunt, this is gross.

"No" in the same monotone. "I didn't have to do it. She made that clear. She persuaded me to do it. They were very bad men. Most of them had worked in the Black Cells for Cersei. They did terrible things to Ellaria Sand and her daughter, and other victims. They did deserve to die, so I was merciful, I suppose. "

"She had no business demanding this of you! This has to stop, now!"

"It can't. Really, it can't. She told me that she was teaching me a lesson, that rulers can't choose between good and bad, but only between bad and worse. When you become King, Jon, or your son, you'll have to do the same. It doesn't matter if you get people to do it for you. You're the one giving the order. "

"Not an order like that."

"Really? Father killed people. Mother killed people. They cut the cocks off rapers, and the hands off thieves. You hanged a boy who betrayed you. It's just...I thought it was a part of my life, I'd put behind me. When Sandor Clegane persuaded me to give up my attempt to kill Cersei. But, you can't put it behind you. Not ever. Once you go down that path, you can't turn back. I've done much worse than I did today".

"You never did worse. You did what you had to do, to survive. You killed Lord Frey and his sons. That was justice."

Arya looks up at him pityingly. "Are you simple, Jon? I found a man in an Inn in the Riverlands called Polliver. He was a Lannister soldier who killed one of my friends. I played with him for a while, before he died, choking in his own blood. I gouged out a man's eyes in Braavos. He was an evil man, but I still laughed as he screamed in pain. Then, I started cutting him round the neck a little, just to make him bleed. He was begging me for mercy, and then he was begging me for death, and still I kept laughing at him. I kept him in pain for a long time, before I finished him. Yes, I killed Walder Frey, and all his sons, and grandsons, and all his male relatives. But, I didn't care whether they were all part of killing Mother and Robb and our men. I wanted all the men dead, that's all. But, that's not the worst I've done. Not by a long way."

"What Arya? Tell me" Jon says softly.

"Walder Frey had two sons. One was called Black Walder, and the other was called Lame Lothar. They were vile men. They planned the murders at Uncle Edmure's wedding. I had something very special in mind for the pair of them. I disabled them both, and then I dismembered them, slowly. And, I told them exactly what I was going to do to them. I had removed their tongues at this point, so they couldn't cry out for help. I think they were crying, but it was hard to tell, after I had removed their faces. By, the time I'd finished with them, they didn't resemble human beings. Then, I cut parts of them into pieces, which I made into pies. I fed them to their father. I made sure that he knew what he had eaten. I even pointed out Black Walder's finger, in one of the pies, before I cut his throat, very slowly, so that he would know that he was dying, and who was doing it. And, I enjoyed every moment of it. I don't think it even occurred to me that I'd done something wicked, until I saw those men moaning and crying in the woods today "

Jon wants to puke, but still takes Arya in his arms, and strokes her hair as she cries.

"You did rightly, Arya, I'm proud of you. " The Queen has entered the room with her bodyguards, and has clearly overheard. "You avenged your family. There is no higher duty. Your mother, brother, and good-sister did not deserve to die at the hands of treacherous scum who were oath-sworn to them. You brought justice to House Frey. You extinguished them root and stem. They deserved nothing less. Just as you brought justice to those evil men today. And, tempered it with mercy."

Jon's anger flares "Is that what you call it? Mercy? And, getting my sister to do it? If you've overheard this conversation, you know what she's been through?"

"I sense there are matters that you need to get off your chest, Jon. Very well, Arya, could you please excuse us a moment. I'll speak to you later." Arya gets up and leaves. The Queen pours two goblets of pear brandy from a decanter on the table. and gives one to Jon. She gestures to him to sit, and takes a chair opposite him.

"Daenerys, why? Why my sister? Is this just some nasty game of yours? Twisting her mind for your own pleasure?"

"Not precisely. It's a game, yes, but a deadly serious one. I won't deny that I enjoy moulding Arya into what I want her to be, what she must be. But, let me ask you a question in turn? How do you imagine that our family established themselves in power, 300 years ago."

"Aegon and his sisters gave the seven kings a choice. Resist and die. Bend the knee and live. They were ruthless, but they ruled well and justly. In time, the people came to love them."

"Wrong. For once, I know more than you do. Dorne refused to bend the knee. We almost lost the realm under Aenys. The Faith rose against us and would have torn us limb from limb. Pretenders rose up in the Reach, the Dornish Marches, the Riverlands. We weren't secure until Jaeherys came to the Throne, 50 years after Aegon "conquered" this country with his sisters. And, the people certainly loved Jaeherys and Good Queen Alysanne. They did rule well and justly. But, they could not have succeeded without the efforts of two people. Maegor and Visenya. Maegor rode the Black Dread, and reduced his opponents to ashes. By comparison, I am a lamb. Maegor went too far, and had to die, eventually. But, Jaeherys could not have ruled gently and justly, had Maegor not destroyed our enemies for good. And Maegor was very much his mother's son. Visenya secured the realm for Aegon. Aegon was a great warrior, but he had no interest in ruling. Visenya was the one who sat in the shadows, who unravelled the conspiracies, interrogated the traitors. She formed the Kingsguard. And she did more. She killed Aegon's son. Not for any personal reason, but because he was a coward and a weakling, who had lost his kingdom, and put all his family in danger. Maegor was the better man. Between them, they saved the dynasty."

"You are not a coward or weakling Jon (You wouldn't have tried to kill me if you were). I've seen you command men in battle, and how they love you. I told you in Winterfell that people give me none of the love that they give you. But, you lack ruthlessness. Very well. Be the good, kind, hero prince, who everyone wants to succeed his vile aunt. But remember that your vile aunt has put you where you are."

"And, what has any of this to do with Arya.?"

"Let her be your Visenya. Let her do the things that you would rather not do. Who better? She can change faces and take forms. She has the steel to do what needs to be done, if you let me temper her. She's a killer Jon. Make use of her. The choice is hers, but I would gladly make her my Mistress of Whisperers. Make her yours."

Jon stays silent a while. "I think I understand something now. Why you spend so much time reading law and philosophy, and history in the library. You search for justifications. If you find a precedent, you use it to excuse your actions. But,,,,,,I can't deny it. You make a powerful case. You weren't just teaching Ayra a lesson, you were teaching me one as well. Very well, if this is what Arya wants, I won't stand in her way."

The Queen drains her goblet and rises. As she leaves the chamber, she turns for the last time. "Jon. When I was a little girl, I was gentle to a fault. I would cry if I saw a fly trapped in a spider's web. Viserys and my first husband cured me of that."

**Notes:**

1\. Daenerys' proposal to rename Kings Landing is a shout out to Peter Ustinov in Quo Vadis. He wanted to rename Rome Neropolis, after the Great Fire. I expect this was just a sour joke on Dany's part.

2\. Daenery's interpretation of the first 50 years of Westeros under the Targryens is broadly correct, in my view, and can be found in both The World of Ice and Fire and Fire and Blood, by George RR Martin. It is left unclear whether Visenya did or did not poison her incompetent nephew, Aenys I. I believe that she did


	9. The Poison Trade

"So, the Usurper requires my attendance at her Coronation, with the other Great Houses. Then I must pledge her liege homage."

"Not unexpected, sister. " replies Bran. "You have no choice but to attend."

"My lady, I must advise you to be careful what you say in public. The Queen will have agents placed in your household", cautions Maester Wolkan.

"I've identified them" says Bran. "We can talk frankly here." They are sitting in the Godswood at Winterfell. The afternoon sun is delightful. The atmosphere is not.

"I wish we could eliminate them, brother. But we can't. Whoever they are reporting to would notice their disappearance, and then they would report their disappearance to our dear sweet sister. "

"It doesn't matter. Once we know who they are, we tell them what we want them to hear."

"Just think how proud Mother and Father would be of their cute little tomboy! She slew the Night's King. Then she turned against her family and became a professional torturer!"

Bran frowns, before saying. "Sansa we don't have clean hands. No one does. You fed your husband to dogs. You struck your bargain with the eunuch. And, you might not visit them, but your own dungeons are …..not pleasant. I'm not condeming you, but don't claim the moral high ground. It doesn't exist. Don't assume Arya has turned against us. But, don't assume she's still on our side. That's why you need to travel South. Talk to her and Jon. Find out what they want. I can see things from afar. That doesn't mean I can always interpret them."

"I believe you have news from Braavos, Maester, " she says, abruptly.

"Indeed my lady. An agent of mine who is employed by the Iron Bank, discovered no less a person than Tyrion Lannister, begging for coins. The Imp is well known in the city, due to your sister's theatrical performances. Acting on his own initiative, my agent advanced him funds and cultivated him. He thirsts for revenge on the Queen, saying " (Wolkan laughs) " I want to rape her and eat her liver raw."

"That sounds like Tyrion" she replies

"I believe he could be useful to us. He knows many of her secrets. I believe he can still do her great evil. May I reimburse my agent from your treasury?"

"Of course. There is so much in this that I do not understand. Tyrion encouraged my brother to murder the Queen, yet she forgave him, and made him her heir. That seems out of character.

"She had no choice. She cannot bear children, and he is the only other Targaryen in the world. If he dies, her House dies. Jon is her entire legacy. And, I believe she does still love him."

Sansa gives a most unladylike snort. "Leads him round by his cock you mean? Damn her, she has more lives than a cat! And, damn the eunuch! He told me that he had suborned a kitchen girl, and I gave him the ingredients he requested. And, still he got himself caught and roasted. That was supposed to be a man of devilish subtlety. How did he fail?"

"I warned you Sansa, that was reckless" says Bran. "The ingredients might have been traced back to Maester Wolkan's storeroom."

"Respectfully not, my lord. The ingredients were chosen with great care. Had they been discovered, the Dornish would have been suspected. But, the point is moot. As to your question, my lady, sometimes a man may become careless, after a lifetime of success. We do not know the circumstances, only the outcome. His plans failed, he died and the Dragon Queen survived. "

"And the kitchen girl?"

"Is no longer in the land of the living."

Bran interjects. "Sansa. The immediate death of the Usurper may not benefit us as much we would hope. Consider, if she were to …..meet an accident, Jon would inherit. He would no longer be Jon Snow, King in the North, but Jon Targaryen, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men. Perhaps he would allow the North to go free, with you as Queen. Perhaps he would object strenuously. After all, the Targaryens united the Seven Kingdoms. You could not count on your Bannermen to pursue your claim if Jon were to oppose it. Yet...…...if there were no Targaryen heir...…and a new monarch were to ascend the throne, that new monarch might look kindly on Northern independence.

A long silence follows, as Sansa's mind races. At length she says "That is a very ugly thought, Bran."

"When you play the game of thrones, Sansa, you must be prepared to think ugly thoughts. You and the eunuch have already shared ugly thoughts. "

"I must think further about this. I must go to Dragonstone, and find out exactly what is going on. " As she walks away, a saying of her late mother's comes into her mind. _The fool strikes. The wise woman smiles, and nods, and curtseys, and sings. And strikes."_

**Notes:** Given the rushed nature of Season 8, it is hard to be sure exactly what was taking place. The beginning of Ep. 5 implies that Varys and a kitchen girl named Martha were both plotting to poison Daenerys. For some reason, the Show Runners wished us to see this as a noble deed (presumably, it would have been even better if the seller of poisoned wine had killed her in Season 1). Daenerys was saved by the fact that she wasn't eating, due to grief. Sansa plainly loathed Daenerys, and revealed Jon's parentage with a view to fomenting trouble between them, and between Daenerys and her advisors. She and Bran were ultimately the beneficiaries of Daenerys' death. While there is nothing in the show to suggest that Sansa actively plotted to poison Daenerys, I would suggest that it was in her character, as depicted in the show


	10. A Moment of Sweetness

"Does she make you burn people for her?" sneers Sansa. One hour after her sister's arrival at Dragonstone, and the sniping and backbiting have already begun, as they sit and talk in Arya's chambers. Not even a plate of her favourite lemon cakes has improved her sister's mood.

"I think she's quite capable of doing that for herself. She has a dragon, if you remember."

"She gave you a wardship, and you became her chief torturer, in return. That must be a real step up for you in the world. Do you enjoy your work?"

"You didn't complain when I opened Lord Baelish's throat for him. I don't have to explain myself to you, but I will tell you this. The most important thing I was taught in the House of Black and White was not how to take forms, but how to distinguish truth from lies. We would spend hours playing a game where one of us would make a statement, and the other had to determine whether it was true or false. It's not perfect. It's possible to tell the truth, without revealing the whole truth. But, I can always tell when a person is lying. As you might imagine, it's skill that comes in extremely useful as Mistress of Whisperers. I've started to teach it to the people who work for me. It's a hell of a lot more reliable than beating a confession out of someone who just wants the pain to go away. I know. I've been on the receiving end of those beatings. Those of my servants who would rather just hand out the beatings can look for other work."

"Tell yourself that, if it helps you sleep at night. You serve a woman who murdered thousands of innocents to get where she is now. "

"As does Jon. And, Jon might be our king one day. Or one of his children will. At some point, the Queen will have to return to Meereen, maybe for years, and he'll be Regent. And you and I will serve him, if we're still around. The Queen is cruel and ruthless - a bit twisted too - and she's also the best ruler we've had for over 40 years. Her father was mad, Robert was a drunken oaf, Joffrey a monster , Tommen a weakling, Cersei, well I don't need to tell you what she was like. Unlike them, the Queen takes her job seriously. Remember, too, you wouldn't be alive today if the Queen hadn't marched North to fight the Dead. If the Queen dies now, all the lords and ladies will just start playing their game of thrones all over again, and we'll have more wars.

Sansa, just what is the problem? You rule the North, and our brother is heir to the throne. What more do you want?

Unless...you really are set on being Queen in the North. That's it, isn't it?"

"Our ancestors were Kings and Queens, for thousands of years. Robb was. Jon was, until he bent the knee. Our people want freedom, not slavery under a foreign tyrant."

"End it, Sansa. Our people are still ruled by a Stark. They aren't slaves. So long as you bend the knee, you can do as you please at Winterfell. I've vouched for your loyalty. A week from now, you'll be giving the Queen your oath of loyalty. And, your oath is to Jon as well. I love you Sansa, but don't ever make me choose between you and Jon."

A happier encounter is taking place in the Queen's solar. Daenerys is reclining in a wooden bath which has been lined with padded silk, and filled with scented oils and sweet-smelling herbs. Her Dothraki handmaiden, Nouronohar, massages her neck and shoulders as she sighs with pleasure. She reminds her of dear, sweet, Irri, foully murdered all those years ago in Qarth, by another dear sweet girl who turned out to be a snake in the grass. _I wonder if she and Xaro began devouring each other before the end_

Discreetly screened, several bards play sweet music. Nouronohar stops massaging her, and pours Arbor Gold into a goblet which she is holding, from a flagon. To complete her happiness, Jon is reclining at the other end of the bath. There are very few moments of sweetness in her life, but this is undoubtedly one of them.

"It's past time you were married."

"I've got you.'

"You know very well why. Let's not go over it again. It won't change what takes place between us."

"My future wife might not be too happy. "

"Your future wife will one day be Queen or Queen Mother. Maybe both. I'm sure she can live with her unhappiness. The world is full of beautiful young Velaryons and Blackwoods and Martells, just desperate to marry the Prince of Dragonstone. Or you could marry Arya?"

"That's absurd. She's my sister."

"First cousin. Even the Smallfolk won't object to that. Alright, alright, you were brought up as brother and sister. But, she'd be good for you."

"The idea would horrify her."

"Organise a brideshow then. That's what our ancestors did."

"Why don't you marry? In fact, I've even received an offer for you."

"From whom?"

"The Khagan of the Jogos Nhai. He seems to think that you're mine to sell. He offers me your weight in silver, and 5,000 head of cattle, and a treaty of eternal friendship. His scribe promises that you will be his principal wife, and offers you "such delights as she has only dreamed of in the darkness" in his marriage bed."

"I hope you wrote back to say that I'm worth a lot more than that."

"I'll bargain with him"

" Let me keep my clothes and jewels. I couldn't do without those. And Drogon, of course."

"The thought never crossed my mind." He draws closer and kisses her passionately. She wraps her arms around him as she kisses back. As she feels his hand moving lower, her breathing quickens. She suddenly breaks away from the kiss and turns to her handmaid. "Nouronahar, would you please give us a moment?" After the Dothraki has left, she stands up in the bath, and pulls his head between her legs.

"Now, do exactly as I tell you", she commands.

After they have finished, Daenerys sighs and says "Our charming cousin has arrived. I've arranged lunch in Aegon's garden. Let's get ready."

**Notes:** 1\. Aegon III selected his wife by means of a brideshow. It forms the basis of the story of Esther in the Old Testament, and the custom was adopted by the Eastern Emperors and the early Romanovs. The young women who were entered for the contest were usually from minor nobility, or middle class, backgrounds, rather than from the higher nobility. The higher nobility might have bridled at one of their number marrying the ruler, but could tolerate the ruler marrying a bride of lower social status. 2. The Jogos Nhai are a tribal confederation in Essos who frequently war with the Dothraki.


	11. A Happy Reunion

"Dear Cousin, it is such a pleasure to meet you again".

The Queen steps forward to embrace Sansa and kiss her on the lips, followed by Jon.

Sansa curtseys before replying "Your Grace, the pleasure is all mine."

"Please, call me Daenerys. We are family, after all. Lunch is prepared in Aegon's Garden."

"Prince of Dragonstone, Jon, heir to the Iron Throne! Who would have thought it, all those years ago, when you took the Black? I'm so proud for you."

"And you, the Lady of the North. We've all come a long way."

The Queen leads them to a table, laden with rich broths, costly meats, and rare fruits. A selection of sweet and dry wines are served to them. Sansa notes that the Queen now employs a taster.

_Does she know? No, I'd be in a cell awaiting an appointment with Drogon if she did_

They make small talk for a while, before Sansa says to the Queen. "I do think we got off on the wrong footing to begin with, at Winterfell. I said a number of things which I now appreciate were unwise and for which I apologise.

"Apology accepted. I said things which I now regret, and would now wish to take back."

"Let's face it" says Jon. "None of us expected to survive the war against the Dead. We were all under immense pressure. We all said and did things which we would not have. But the pack survived, and we won. In the end, that's all that matters. " He raises his goblet to drink a toast.

_You won? You sold yourself like a whore. From hero of the North to the plaything of a thief, a blackmailer, a mass murderer of innocents; and enthusiast for incest. Still, you got a higher price than Arya did._

"We won." Sansa raises her goblet in return.

They sit in silence for a while, enjoying the salty air, and the sound of the breakers.

"You need money, I should think" says the Queen, at last. "The North will have suffered at the hand of the Night's King."

"Indeed, which is why I'm seeking a loan from the Iron Bank."

" I heard. I would sooner trust a pit viper. They financed Robert Baratheon, and Stannis, and Cersei, but turned me down flat. How much are you seeking?"

"Three million dragons". Jon chokes on his wine.

_Dear sweet, simple, Jon, sellswords do not pay for themselves._

"What interest are the Iron Bank charging?"

"4%. "

"That sounds too good to be true. in my experience, a deal that sounds too good to be true is too good to be true. What else are they seeking?

"Some trading concessions for Braavos."

"Ah. Trading concessions concern me as well. Could you please be specific."

"A monopoly on the export of timber and pitch from White Harbour."

"Braavos has the biggest merchant marine in the world. I can see how this would benefit them. It is less clear to me how this would be of benefit to my Realm."

"I can use the money to rebuild towns and villages, to build roads, and harbours. In turn, that will generate taxes."

Jon interjects, "Sansa, I don't know whether the Iron Brank owns the government of Braavos, or if the government of Braavos owns the Iron Bank. It doesn't matter, they work hand in glove. There's a real risk you'd be turning the North into a colony of Braavos if this deal went through."

The Queen speaks "Currently, my Treasury is bankrupt. However, the main branches of House Tyrell, House Tarly, and House Lannister are now legally extinct. That means their lands are forfeit to the Crown. Despite the wars, this Realm is full of rich merchants who wish to buy land and become lords. These lands will raise an enormous revenue. Be patient, and I can advance you money on terms at least as advantageous as those of the Iron Bank. I can't agree to give the Braavosi the monopoly they want."

_Will you advance me the money to bring you down, and set my country free? I think not._

"Daenerys, you are too kind. I shall gladly wait."

"Is there anything else you want from me?""

_Your head decorating a spike above the main gate to Winterfell. Your body hanging from one of your own gibbets_

"Nothing else Daenerys. Could you please excuse me now, it has been a long journey, and I must rest."

Sansa weeps silently in her chambers, later that day. She remembers what Bran said at their last meeting. She wishes she could avoid the implications of his final comments, but she cannot. For a moment, she worries that Arya will report their conversation. No, Arya was merely warning her. She feels a sudden flash of anger _how dare she! _Unbidden, images of her childhood come through to her mind; of her teaching Jon to dance, of Arya's disdain for needlework with Septa Mordane, of the mischief they all got up together, but that was a different age, and they were different people then.

_No woman is more accursed than the kinslayer_.

But the Kings and Queens of Winter were hard, and cold, and ruthless. When need arose, they did not shrink from pruning their own family trees.

**Notes:** The term "lunch" is deliberately anachronistic. The main meal of the day was in the early afternoon and was always called Dinner


	12. A Little Hatred

Six hundred miles away, Tyrion Lannister is increasingly reconciled to life in Braavos. It is probably the best-run city in the world, one of the very few where the people look well-fed, and the streets aren't full of shit. Of course, it was no fun begging for a time. He was even tempted to take up the Queen's parting suggestion, and suck cocks for a living, until Tycho Nestoris, a senior manager at the Iron Bank found him. The man has subsequently provided him with a sum sufficient to find decent lodgings, and to indulge his two passions - wine and whores. Of course, nothing comes free in life. Nestoris has made plain that his patrons will require value for their money in due course. He will be happy to oblige. Bringing down the bitch of Dragonstone and her pathetic heir will be a pleasure. How many people are lucky enough to be paid for doing what they enjoy?

He belches with satisfaction as he enjoys his evening meal in Venier's Wine Rooms. A fine rack of lamb, seasoned with rosemary, garnished with rocket, and washed down with a full-bodied Dornish red. The slightly pungent flavour reminds him of the taste of Shae's cunt. _Are you and father fucking each other in hell?_

It really is time to pay a visit to the brothel. He pays the waiter, and waddles out of the tavern, cock already stiffening with anticipation. And runs straight into a detachment of the city guard. There is no escape.

"Your pardon, Signor Lannister, you are to accompany us, " says the leader.

"Why? What have I done?"

"My masters will inform you. Please follow."

"And if I say No."

"I would not recommend that course of action, Signore.'

What choice does he have? The men are lightly armed with short swords, but they do have the confident air of proficient killers. They would make short work of him if he resisted. They lead him through the city centre, until they approach a narrow bridge crossing a wide canal and leading to a large island. He knows now where he is headed, and is not at all happy. The Sealord's Palace! Sinister tales abound of people taken there for questioning who never return. Well-run though Braavos is, its secret police force is feared the world over. The guards take him into a magnificent atrium, and then through a plain door, leading to a small ante chamber. Opposite the first door is another, upon which the leader knocks three times. The door opens, and the man enters. Tyrion is left with the guards, and a striking blonde woman in early middle age. She wears a navy damask robe without adornment, but beautifully cut. She rises from her seat, and seems to glide towards him, holding out her hand, and smiling. He notices that she wears no jewellery, other than a plain gold wedding band, and a signet ring. He has learned that the elite of Braavos frown on overt displays of wealth. She must be very wealthy indeed.

She addresses him in Common. "My lord, welcome. I am Cithrin Bel Sarcour, a Magistra of the Iron Bank. You would say, a Director.

He wonders what she looks like when disrobed, but remembers his manners in time "Madame, the pleasure is mine." Then, curiosity wins out over manners. "Pardon me for asking, but is it not unusual for a woman to hold such an office?"

"Your country is ruled by a Queen. Nevertheless, it must seem strange to you. The Iron Bank is not a typical institution. It judges its employees solely by their results, not their status. It likes my results, a lot. Come, we are summoned" as the door opens.

They enter a plain dark room, lit by candles. The heart of the Serene Republic. Facing them is a long table. On one side, sit the Sealord, his secretary, and six robed and masked men; the Council of Six, charged with the security of the city. On the other side, are two chairs. Cithrin curtseys to the Sealord, and following her example, Tyrion bows.

The Sealord speaks "Magistra, Signore, be seated."

The Sealord is a lean, elderly man, with a short white beard. He immediately addresses Tyrion "You are an embarrassment to us. We grant asylum to foreign nationals upon the understanding that they play no further part in the politics of their home countries. Yet, already, we find you engaged in an intrigue with a senior official of the Iron Bank. We do not take the Dragon Queen lightly. We are surprised that you should do so, in view of the circumstances in which she dismissed you from her Realm. We presume that you have no wish for us to return you to her Realm?"

Tyrion's guts churn at the prospect of what awaits him should he return. "Your Excellency, I was penniless. Master Nestoris offered to get me back on my feet."

Cithrin speaks, "Excellency, Master Nestoris is in contact with our friends in the North. However, he ought to have first reported his dealings with Signor Lannister to me, so that I might discuss them with your Excellency. He did not, before replying to our friends, and he will be disciplined."

"You are responsible for the actions of your employees, Magistra. The Council will fine you heavily for this." The Magistra bows her head in acknowledgement.

The Sealord turns back to Tyrion "It is fortunate for you that you can still be of service to us. We have questions for you, regarding the Queen. We advise you to answer them honestly. At least one of the Councillors in this room, has studied in the House of Black and White. We will therefore know if you are not telling the truth. Offend us in this, and we shall return you to Dragonstone. Now, during your time as her Hand, did the Queen ever threaten Braavos?"

"Never in so many words, your Excellency. I believe that her ambitions do not lie in this part of the world. However, she frequently expressed hostility towards the Iron Bank. "

"Why?"

"Before I became her Hand, she applied for a loan from the Bank, in Meereen, when she was hard-pressed by rebellion. The Bank turned her down. Subsequently, she learned that the Bank had been funding my sister, when she held the Iron Throne, as well as the pretender, Stannis Baratheon. She came to see the Bank as an enemy."

"Magistra, kindly outline the history of the Bank's dealings with the Queen." "

"Signor Lannister is correct. Some years ago, in Meereen, she sought a loan from the Bank. At the time, I urged acceptance of the application. My colleagues disagreed. My influence in the Bank was less then".

"Why did your colleagues refuse?"

"They concluded that her activities were bad for trade. The Serene Republic is, of course, a free state, but we have loans and investments across the world, including those States where slavery is practised. When she destroyed the Masters, she destroyed their ability to repay their debts to the Bank. She disrupted trade, much of which is carried in the Republic's ships, financed and insured by the Bank."

"So, why did you favour the loan?"

"The best reason of all. I concluded that she was likely to defeat her enemies in the East. Therefore, it would be wise to conciliate her. She did defeat her enemies, but she prohibits us from operating in Meereen. The Meereenese economy now flourishes, but we are denied access. Even if she were inclined to forgive us for this, she knows that we funded her enemies in Westeros. We did of course, have no political commitment to her enemies; this was simply a matter of business, and we made an immense profit when Queen Cersei repaid her debt. We would happily do business with the Queen, but she has rejected all overtures from ourselves. It is a difference in philosophical outlook. But, there is worse. When she took Kings Landing, she destroyed property and goods which belonged to ourselves and to our clients. We bear no ill will for this. Property is destroyed during wars, but we expect compensation for our and our clients' losses. She refuses. We consider such behaviour to be both dishonourable and insulting."

"She has immense armies to maintain", interjects Tyrion. "Yes, there are revenues from Meereen, but Westeros is exhausted. It will take years before revenue recovers. Where is she obtaining funds from? "

"In large part, from the property of her enemies. But, the Bank of Tyrosh are providing her with credit. In return, they will exclude us from commercial activity in Westeros as well as Meereen. It is a problem for us. In time, the Tyroshi may even eclipse us."

"But, Tyrosh is a slave state" exclaims Tyrion. "They must hate her."

"Pecunia non olet. They have the opportunity to profit at our expense."

"Which makes it in turn, a problem for our Republic" responds the Sealord. " It would therefore seem desirable to us, that there should be a change of government in Westeros. Our friends in the North are seeking a substantial loan, are they not, Magistra?"

"They are, Excellency They would hire sellswords, freeriders, sellsails, and would purchase armaments, in vast quantities. In return, they offer an extremely lucrative monopoly on trade from White Harbour, including wood, pitch, furs, and amber. There are also valuable deposits of iron and tin ore. The North is potentially a treasure house, if only it were properly exploited."

"Colonised, you mean? "interjects Tyrion.

"We would not use that term" replies the Magistra. "It is immaterial to us who governs from Winterfell, or White Harbour, so long as they are …...malleable."

"So, Signore, " the Sealord now addresses Tyrion. "We require your judgement on this matter. Your *honest* judgement."

Tyrion chooses his words with care. "As you know, I hate the Queen; I hate her heir, I hate Lady Arya. My natural inclination is that you bring them fire and blood. But, I have seen what dragonfire can do. I don't think I will ever forget what took place at Kings Landing that day. She destroyed a fleet, an army, and a city. Braavos is not so far from Dragonstone that she could not bring the same horrors to your own city. Worse still, she has a seasoned army, and the lords and ladies of Westeros fear her. You will not easily persuade them to defy her. I am however, heartened by your news from the North. I will not ask who your friends are - I presume it would be unethical for the Bank to reveal the identity of its clients - but if they are who I think they are, they will be most loyal allies to you. What is more, they will have allies in the Riverlands and the Vale who will side with them, when the time comes to strike. I would not strike prematurely, but I would fund them, so that they can build up their strength. I would seek allies among those of the Free Cities that fear the Queen's ambitions. Not Tyrosh obviously, but Volantis must fear expansion from Meereenm and perhaps, revolution among its own slaves. I would beware the Lady Arya. She has trained at the House of Black and White, and will be wise to the ways of your assassins. In short, prepare to strike, but only when you are sure of the forces at your disposal."

"That has been most helpful. Thank you" concludes the Sealord. "You may remain in our city, for now. You will report to the Magistra from now on. She will provide you with an allowance"

**Notes:** 1\. Braavos is based on the Serene Republic of Venice, which lasted until 1797. The Council of Six was the main executive body of the State. Venice was notorious for the efficiency of its secret police and spies. 2. Pecunia non Olet "Money has no smell." A saying attributed to Vespasian when he introduced a tax on urinals. 3. Cithrin Bel Sarcour is a brilliant, if corrupt, banker in Daniel Abrahams' Dagger and Coin quartet aged 18 -23. I brought her into this story, imagining her in her mid thirties (which would be early middle age in a medieval society). The Iron Bank strikes me as the kind of institution which would have no objection to a woman holding a senior position, provided she made them money. An outstanding financier, with perfect manners, she tends to be a bit obtuse when it comes to understanding human nature. 4. "Our Friends in the North" was a phrase coined by BOSS to describe their counterparts who worked for Ian Smith's government, in Rhodesia.


	13. The Apogee

The most joyful day of the Queen's life is underway. Drogon circles downwards in the morning light, towards Dragonstone. Aloft, Daenerys wears a suit of black plate armour, a red cloak flying from her shoulders, her hair unbound, streaming behind her, in the manner of the Conqueror and his sisters. Vast crowds of the Smallfolk have already gathered in the fields outside Dragonstone, many having travelled over the channel, from Driftmark and the Mainland. They are being entertained with bread, meat, and fish, sweetmeats, wines, and ale. Inside the palace, the nobles, foreign emissaries, and selected merchants are already gathering for her coronation ceremony.

_I could die happy today. Viserys, Mirri, Doreah, Xaro, Lord Tarly, Varys, Cersei, I almost wish they were alive now, to see all this! Almost. Even Lord Imp. I should have kept him here, to see it. And then, rounded off a great day by throwing the treacherous little fucker into the Sea._

The events of the night before had really got her in the mood for celebration. Arya had brought her information, some weeks ago, of a certain lord who had frequented the brothel in Kings Landing, which had been owned by the late, and unlamented, Lord Baelish. There, the man had been a user of children. Arya had considered this information could be used to blackmail him. Daenerys had other plans. The man had been brought to the Undercroft, and there, for a few hours, had become the plaything of one who had been used as a child. Little more than two hours ago, she had finally extinguished his dark soul. She feels cleansed, refreshed. She giggles as she wonders what the crowds would think if they knew she was spattered with his gore, beneath her armour.

Arya does not join the Queen in her occasional games in the Undercroft. The night that Arya had confessed her torture of the Freys to Jon, the Queen had come to her Chambers, taken her in her arms, and comforted her. She had assured her that she had acted rightly, that the pleasure she had taken from her actions was natural, and nothing to be ashamed of, and that the skills she had learned could be put to good use, on behalf of the Realm. The final, clinching argument, had been that one day, Jon would be King or Regent, and would need her to do the things which he could not. Arya has in fact proved to be most efficient. She has demonstrated that sometimes there are more effective methods than torture in order to obtain information. But, none is more enjoyable, as a means of punishing the guilty.

Drogon lands in front of the crowds who cheer wildly, as Daenerys dismounts. She has no fear of them. The Unsullied have them in hand, and in any event, they are well-salted with Arya's agents, vigilantly watching for assassins. Jauntily, she flings her cloak over her shoulder, and waves to them, prompting further ecstatic cheers. Most of the crowd are already half-cut, and it's not even mid-day. _So, that's how I make them love me. Get them drunk! By the end of the day, the vomit will be wall to wall!_

She strides through the entrance to Dragonstone, where the new High Septon awaits her, robed in cloth of silver along with the Most Devout. Also waiting for her are Jon, and the seven Peers of the Realm; her dear Cousin, Lady Stark, Lady Megga Hightower of the Reach, Lord Marbrand of the West, Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storms End, Lord Edmure Tully, Lord Arryn of the Vale, and Prince Quentyn Martell of Dorne, and the members of the Small Council, dressed in robes of gold brocade, studded with precious stones, other than Grey Worm, who is wearing armour as usual. The Queen's Chamberlain and his stewards marshal them all into line, and they proceed to the Great Hall, the High Septon and Most Devout preceding her, the Peers and Small Councillors trailing her. As they enter the Hall, Daenerys' heart swells as the minstrels play and the choir begins to sing the coronation anthem:-

"Zadok the Priest,

and Nathan the Prophet

anointed Solomon King.

And all the people rejoic'd, and said:

God save the King!

Long live the King!

May the King live for ever,

Amen, Alleluia.

The assembled nobles and dignitaries applaud as she proceeds to the Iron Throne, which has been transported from the remains of the Red Keep. At the very front of the gathering are the two visiting Heads of State, Yara Greyjoy and the Archon of Tyrosh, along with Daario Naharis, her viceroy in Meereen, and the foreign envoys.

The High Septon guides her to the Iron Throne and she sits. The Hall falls silent as he intones:-

"In the Name of the Father, I charge you to lead your people

In the Name of the Mother, I charge you to nourish your people

In the Name of the Warrior, I charge you to defend your people

In the Name of the Crone, I charge you to rule wisely

In the Name of the Smith, I charge you to bring prosperity to your Realm

In the Name of the Maiden, I charge you protect the innocent

In the Name of the Stranger, I charge you to bring death to the enemies of the Realm."

He then places a copy of the Seven-Pointed Star in the Queen's hands, before saying:-

"Will You solemnly promise and swear to govern the People of the Realm according to the Laws and Customs of the same? "

"I solemnly Promise so to do"

"Will you, to the utmost of your power, cause Law and Justice in Mercy to be executed in all Your Judgements"

"I will"

"Will you, to the utmost of your power, maintain the Laws of the Gods, and the true profession of the Faith, Established by Law? "

"All this I promise to do. The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep, so help me the Gods".

She then kisses the holy book, which is taken from her by one of the Most Devout.

"May the Gods save the Queen. " he intones. He now steps forward, to place Aegon I's Iron and Ruby crown on her brow. He then bows, as he hands her the orb and sceptre of royalty. Then he turns to the crowd:-

"I now proclaim Daenerys of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, By the Grace of the Seven, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men."

Grey Worm steps forward, draws his sword and shouts "Let anyone who disputes the Queen's rule now step forward and answer with his body!" He glares around the Hall, but no one is stupid enough to answer.

"Vivat Regina in Aeternam", cries the High Septon in High Valyrian. "May the Queen live forever!" respond the crowd.

She is ecstatic as she surveys the crowds, her heart soaring within her. Every sin, every crime, every vile act has been justified by this. She thinks of all her enemies:-

_"You played the game well, I grant you, but you lost. Call me what you like. An abomination born of incest; a foreign whore; a monster; a tyrant. Maybe you were right. But, none of that beats one simple truth._

_"I won."_

**Notes: **

**1**. This concludes Part I of the story. It grew in the telling. I expect that Part II will run to a similar length.

2\. The coronation ceremony is based on that of the Kings and Queens of England. "Zadok the Priest " is obviously an anachronism, but it has been sung, in various forms, since the coronation of King Edgar in AD 973, The modern version, first composed by George Handel is 1727, is one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever written. It can be heard here: watch?v=MiXgOQ9_-RI

3\. My Daenerys is quite clearly based upon Lucius Cornelius Sulla, from Colleen McCullogh's Masters of Rome series


End file.
